The Alice Game
by HattressOfWonderland
Summary: A dark twist on the story. Madeline didn't simply come into being; someone had to create her. The story of sisters divided, a twisted taboo, and the Alice Game.
1. Once Upon an Author

So, I had a strange burst of inspiration to write a dark AU for Wonderland. So, a disclaimer;  
There will be violence, possibly character death, and mentions of sex and / or abuse.  
While I do not believe for a second that Lewis Caroll was a pedophile, for the sake of this story, the English Gentleman (also referred to as 'The Author' or 'The Writer') is a darker and more disturbing version of the beloved author. You have been warned.

* * *

There was once an author who loved a girl. When he died, his love for her lived on. Through it, he created a place where she would come and stay in her dreams. After Alice grew up and stopped believing in these childish things, the author reached out and found other girls, all of whom he would call 'Alice' just the same as the first. But like all little girls, the Alice's would need to grow up and leave the author. Centuries of this pattern passed until finally, they stopped coming all together.

Distressed, the author created an Alice unlike the others. He made her himself, of words and ink and tuneless songs. He made her with what he could find; hair twisted from copper, bright eyes which he pulled from the Pool of Tears, paper skin and rosebud lips.

She was the imperfect Alice, but one thing made the author contented; She could never leave the Wonderland he had created.


	2. Doll-Like

When he found her for the first time, he'd mistaken her for a doll. She sat, back against one of the wider trees, with her head lolling slightly to one side, her eyes open and staring into nothingness. They were a dead blue, and she didn't blink- not once- as he approached her.

The only thing that gave away that she was human was the lack of exposed joints. Even when Morris squinted at the girl, he couldn't see her _breathing_. Just sitting, staring past him into the lake beyond.

Thinking nothing much of another madwoman in the Looking Glass, he did the only sensible thing; Which was, of course, to avoid her gaze and keep on walking.

* * *

When he saw her the second time, unmoving from her spot beneath the shade of the tree, he noticed that the grass in her shadow was dead from a lack of sunlight.

She hadn't _moved_ in the weeks since he had first seen her.

* * *

The third time he saw her, he wondered how long she would keep up the charade. With a curiousity that he didn't care to fight, Morris reached out to touch her cheek with a single finger. And that was when he heard it.

It sounded like a **_crack_**- The way how, when one leaned on a mirror or thin glass too hard, it would groan just before splintering apart.

Quickly, he withdrew his hand and took a step backward. Human skin doesn't _crack_, ordinarily, and never like glass. But no mark was on her skin, aside from a faint pinkness in her cheek where he had touched.

And then she blinked.

It was slow, as though she was winding back to speed. She blinked once, twice, and then her head raised to meet his eyes.

Morris had seen many odd things on his walks through this part of Wonderland. Truth be told, he preferred to stay away from the Land Beyond The Looking Glass; there was too much blood in that land, from the ongoing war between the Kingdoms Red and **Black**.  
Yes, he had seen many odd things, but this girl was by far the oddest.

"Who are you," Morris frowned, peering over his glasses at the woman a moment before taking a tentative step closer, "And why are you not wearing armour, this close to the battlefields? You're going to get yourself-"

Before he could finish saying _killed_, the woman spoke in a faint voice, "He erased me."

The gentleman scrunched up his nose at her, and she mimicked the expression before leaning her head back against the tree, staring up at the sky, "He erased me and left me here to die because she is coming back."

"**_Lovely_**. You failed to answer who you are, but...good to know you're _not crazy_ like the rest of these people." Morris expected her to either laugh or to huff and throw a pebble at him, as most girls seemed to enjoy doing when he had been small.

Instead, the doll-like woman didn't even move. It was eerie, unnatural, and unfortunately sparked his curiosity.

"Are you glued to the tree?"  
That comment had her gaze back on him, and for the first time, her expression changed. She smiled, and he noticed for the first time that her lips were **black**. He wasn't certain if she wore lipstick, or something had tinted them, but they were the disturbing tint of a bruise.  
_And she smiled._


End file.
